


A Helping Hand

by malfoys_minx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes is loud, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers is not (yet), Super Soldier Stamina, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoys_minx/pseuds/malfoys_minx
Summary: After everything Bucky has been through in his too long life, it seems especially cruel that even now, safe and sound in Steve's spare room, he still can't find the relief that he craves. Oh he's tried, of course. He's triedeverything, but no matter what he does or how he does it he can't fuckingcome. Honestly this might just be one of the worst things Hydra ever did to him and they didn't even do it on purpose.So, as much as he hates to admit it, he knows he's going to need a little help if he's ever going to get past whatever psychological snares Hydra have left behind and who better to assist him than Captain America himself? Besides, Steve has always gone above and beyond when it comes to Bucky, so perhaps he won't mindtoomuch if he's asked to lend a hand this time too...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This escalated. Big time. I mean, I'm not remotely sorry, but it was only supposed to be a quick little one-shot (where have you heard that before...?!) and somehow it turned into a smut-filled extravaganza that goes way past what the synopsis promises. Just FYI. 
> 
> On that note, I know _exactly_ how much this escalated because it's already finished. I've still got some last bits of proofreading to do, so there might be a few days between updates, but it shouldn't stay a WIP for too long. If you're like me and learned the hard way to never ever _ever_ risk reading a WIP (I _still_ want to know how an Imperiused Draco Malfoy was going to manage to not murder Harry Potter (AKA the secret love of his young life) after a run in with Voldemort during the Christmas holidays, and I've been hanging off the cliff of _that_ abandoned WIP for approximately fifteen years...), you can take a chance on this, I promise!
> 
> And finally, the Fic Publishing Plan remains on schedule and I'm thrilled to say that, despite a serious collision with a runaway plot bunny, I've hit March's deadline head on, so... 
> 
> Happy 104th birthday, Bucky! Have some orgasms ;) xx

Bucky cursed roundly, head falling back against his pillow with a thump as he struggled to get himself back under control. Staring up at the ceiling, he focused on his breathing, counting the seconds between each inhale and exhale until his hand unclenched enough to drop uselessly to his side on the bed. He didn’t even know what had possessed him to try again, as if this time would somehow be any different to all the other countless times he’d tried and failed. 

And he'd tried fucking _everything_ by this point. Every position he could think of, using his flesh and metal hands, one or the other or both. He'd tried rutting against the bed, humping his pillow, he’d even tried stroking himself in a big fluffy bubble bath surrounded by tealights, as if he were attempting to seduce himself like a woman in some ridiculous modern movie. Nothing worked. As soon as he started getting close his body would seize up, shutting down any attempt at movement until he'd recovered enough control for his fucked up mind to understand that he wasn't under attack. Or at least that was the only explanation he'd been able to come up with for why his body absolutely _refused_ to allow him to come. 

He'd been told that Hydra had blocked all his sexual impulses with drugs, but they had been out of his system for a long time now and, despite what he'd thought for the best part of seventy years, he was apparently still human. Once he'd settled down into a life of sorts, living in Steve's spare room, eating and drinking, sleeping and exercising, he'd rediscovered a whole lot more about what it meant to be a man. He'd spent hours on the Internet, preferring to learn things for himself rather than relying on Steve to help him with every tiny detail, and he'd inevitably stumbled across some porn during his 'research'. One thing had naturally led to another and he'd reacted as most men would when confronted with certain material. 

Of course his memories from before were still sketchy at best, but he remembered enough to know he'd hardly been a saint back in his youth. He remembered jerking off, he remembered having sex, he remembered, vaguely at least, how it felt to come, but apparently those hazy memories were all he would ever have, because it didn't look like it was ever going to happen again. 

Not for the first time he thought about getting himself a hooker. He knew he didn't have the social skills to pick up a girl the way he once could have done, but surely there was someone out there he could pay to lend him a helping hand. The trouble was, he didn't trust himself. Who knew what might happen if he lost control and the last thing he wanted to do was risk hurting someone just because he wanted to get his rocks off. He'd even considered hiring a muscle-packed hulk of a man for the job, figuring a hand was a hand no matter who it was attached to, but even that seemed too much of a risk, after all, he was no ordinary man even without his metal arm and with it… Well it wasn't even worth thinking about. He needed someone that he knew could handle him at his worst and short of asking an Avenger for help, he didn't know what else to do. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that was not a service the helpful heroes provided as standard. 

Of course, there was Steve. There had always been Steve and Bucky knew without having to ask that his oldest friend would help him without a second thought. Steve would do anything for him and he appreciated that more than he could ever begin to express, but this… It was too much. He couldn't put him in that position, not when he knew the other man would never dream of telling him no, no matter how uncomfortable he might feel. So that was all there was to it; he wouldn't ask Steve, couldn't ask anyone else and he was just going to have to learn to live with it. 

Only it was significantly easier said than done and as the weeks crawled past, he found it increasingly difficult to just 'live with it'. He was hard all the damn time and there was only so much he could do to simply will away his erection. In the end it all came to a head, so to speak, when a particularly vivid dream left him grinding against the mattress before he'd fully returned to consciousness. Barely awake, but already halfway to coming, his hips moved automatically, _desperately_ , against the sheets and fuck he was so _close_ , he only needed a little more. 

Except as the pleasure hovered just short of its peak, a soft groan escaped him, barely audible, and yet it was enough. The low sound dragged him just a fraction closer to wakefulness and that was all it took for his body to seize up once again, his hips locking and effectively paralysing him. The cry of sheer frustration that escaped him broke through the last dregs of sleep and he jerked fully awake to find himself still half frozen in place, his body screaming for the release he couldn't give it. 

Burying his face in the pillow he muffled another desperate cry as he heard a quiet knock, followed by the sound of the door opening and the soft pad of Steve's footsteps. "Buck? You ok?" A hand touched his shoulder and he bit back a groan, even the innocent contact feeling like a teasing caress to his overstimulated body. 

"Fine, I'm fine," his voice was rough as he struggled against the temporary paralysis, finally managing to roll onto his back with a huff of frustration. 

"You sure?" The hand squeezed and his eyes fluttered shut, fighting suddenly to remain still rather than pressing into the touch. 

"Yes." 

The word was little more than a hiss and he knew without having to look that it was never going to pacify his overprotective friend. Sucking in a shaky breath he opened his eyes to meet that all too familiar concerned gaze, meaning to try again, but then Steve's thumb rubbed a soothing circle into his skin and the word stuck in his throat. 

"No," he admitted tiredly. 

"What's wrong?" Steve sat down on the bed beside him, still lightly gripping Bucky's shoulder between sure warm fingers, "Nightmare?" 

Shaking his head, he blew out a breath, wondering if he could really do this, but then the other man's hand shifted again and Bucky's hips jerked and suddenly he wasn't sure he had all that much of a choice. He was going to go crazy if he didn't get some relief soon and yeah, asking his best friend to jerk him off wasn't exactly normal, but then what the fuck about his whole damn life now could ever be considered normal? 

"I think I need a hand with something." 

"Anything, you know that," Steve assured him, eyes still full of concern, "What do you need?" 

"Need?" he echoed roughly, "I _need_ to come." 

"You… What?" His friend's face twisted with confusion, but his fingers didn't stop their slow caress of Bucky's shoulder. 

"I need to come," he repeated wearily, "I keep trying, but I can't. Whenever I try to jerk off my body has a fucking fit and shuts down and I fucking _can't_." His voice cracked on a sudden sob, "Please Steve, I know this is all kinds of fucked up, but I _need_..." 

"Ok," the other man agreed quietly when Bucky trailed off helplessly. 

"Ok?" his brows shot up, heart skipping a beat. Apparently knowing Steve would agree wasn't quite the same as hearing him say it. 

"What do you need me to do?" 

"I don't know," he admitted awkwardly, "just touch me, I guess?" 

In lieu of replying out loud, Steve simply shifted his hand lower, trailing it cautiously down the bare skin of Bucky's chest until it slipped under the covers. His friend wasn't looking at him, his eyes locked instead on the progress of his own hand down Bucky's body, but that only made it easier and rather than overthinking things, he let his own attention focus on the soft pressure of the other man's touch sliding over his skin. 

He was still painfully hard and at the first brush of fingers over the fabric covering his aching erection, his hips jerked wildly, desperately seeking friction. Much to his relief, Steve quickly obliged, sliding his hand into Bucky's sleep pants and wrapping his fingers around his length. There was no hesitation as he started to stroke and Bucky found himself praising every deity he knew for giving him a friend like Steve Rogers. 

The other man's hand was warm and steady, gripping with just the right amount of pressure and he couldn't contain his groan of pleasure at the sensation. He'd forgotten how much better it felt when someone else did this to him and he didn't even try to hold back, driving himself into Steve's fist. He'd been so close already, he was certain that it wasn't going to last long, but he almost wished it would, because his friend was really damn good at this. His fingers moved smoothly over Bucky’s cock, working it with sure, firm strokes. Every now and then he'd slide up to palm the head, collecting the wetness that had gathered there to ease the glide of his hand and sending an extra shiver of sensation skating down Bucky's spine in the process. 

It was more than enough to leave him panting and as he got closer to the edge, hips thrusting urgently into the other man's fist, he wondered if maybe this was all he'd needed, to have someone else in the driving seat. Only then Steve squeezed just a little harder, sending a spike of pleasure right through him, and exactly as it had every time before, Bucky's body seized up, leaving him half paralysed and no longer capable of arching up to meet Steve's perfect strokes. 

Letting out a sob of frustration, he fell back against the mattress, all but frozen in place, only Steve was still there and he didn't even falter. 

"It's ok, I've got you," his friend murmured, shifting until he was lying beside him on the bed, tucking his free arm around Bucky's shoulders and holding him close even as he continued to work him over. 

" _Please_ ," he whispered back brokenly, still fruitlessly battling his own body. 

"Relax," Steve told him gently, "Don't fight it, just let it come." 

Closing his eyes, he tried to do as he'd been bid and it helped a little. He still couldn't move, but with the other man moving for him, for once that didn't matter so much. Despite his body's best efforts, the feelings in him continued to build, the tension coiling tighter and tighter and still Steve's hand stroked over him, driving him closer and closer to breaking point. 

He knew that in any other circumstance he'd have been embarrassed by the pathetically needy whimpers falling desperately from his lips, but now he was too far gone to care. He was so close he could almost taste it and for almost longer than he could bear, he remained caught on the edge of the precipice, everything in him screaming for a release that seemed just out of reach. 

Steve was murmuring in his ear, words that he couldn't make sense of but blended together to form a whole new kind of caress. He could feel his body tensing up even more, almost painfully so, could hear the desperate pleas falling from his own lips as he begged for release and just when he was sure he couldn't possibly take any more, he _came_. It was so intense that it felt as though he was shattering apart and yet as the tension in his body fractured into pieces, it also finally freed him from its hold. With a cry of pleasure, his hips jerked up, thrusting so hard into Steve's fist that he was sure he'd have dislodged anyone else, only the other man didn't even flinch, continuing to stroke him through it, only releasing him when he collapsed bonelessly back against the sheets. 

For a long while the room was all but silent, the quiet broken only by Bucky's heaving breaths as he slowly came down. He felt the gentle scratch of a tissue over his skin as Steve cleaned up the mess on his abdomen before carefully settling his pants back in place, but beyond that the other man didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move and Bucky couldn't help being thankful for that. It felt a little like the only thing grounding him was the arm Steve still had around him. Part of him longed to turn into it, to cuddle up to his friend's chest and sleep there, but even in his blissed out daze, he was pretty sure that was something he wasn't supposed to do. Instead he tilted his head just a little to the side, searching out the other man with his eyes. 

"Thank you," he slurred and felt Steve's arm tighten around his shoulder in response. 

"Get some sleep," his friend whispered with a soft smile and Bucky hummed back, his eyes already falling closed. 

There was a light pressure against his forehead and he wondered vaguely if Steve had kissed him. Only perhaps it had been a dream, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up alone, feeling better than he had in decades. 

\--- 

"Morning!" he greeted sunnily as he stepped into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee machine. 

"Morning," Steve choked on a laugh, returning Bucky's smile, "Feeling better?" 

"You have _no_ idea," he declared as he made himself a drink. 

"I'm glad," the other man told him, draining the last of his own coffee as Bucky settled beside him at the kitchen island. 

"Seriously, I feel like I could take on the whole of Hydra single handed right now," he turned in his seat to face his friend properly, eyes serious despite the dopey grin he could still feel draped across his lips, "I can't thank you enough." 

"Any time," Steve assured him automatically and Bucky couldn't help himself. 

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow and Steve's ears went pink, but he didn't look away. 

"Any time," the other man repeated firmly. 

Bucky shook his head bewilderedly, "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Rogers, but whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't in this lifetime." 

"Don't sell yourself short," Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze and Bucky shivered, his heart abruptly picking up speed at the innocent touch. 

Swallowing hard, he looked down, taking in the way the other man's fingers looked spread across his bare skin, before glancing back up and meeting Steve's eyes. There was something in his friend's expression that made his chest clench, but then Steve released him, getting up from his seat and tidying his mug into the dishwasher as if nothing had happened. 

"Coming for a run?" 

"Sure," Bucky agreed weakly, gulping down his coffee, "Let me just go get dressed." 

By the time he returned to the living room, the moment had long since passed and as he settled into their usual workout routine it was easily put out of his mind. In fact, aside from the general sense of wellbeing that stayed with him right through the day, he didn't consciously allow himself to think about what Steve had done for him at all. It wasn’t until he turned in for the night that he let it even cross his mind, but once he was safely in bed it suddenly became all but impossible _not_ to think about it. 

In the dark, all he could see was Steve’s face and he was almost sure he could smell Steve’s scent, despite the fact he’d changed the sheets earlier in the day. It was ridiculous, he knew, and yet he couldn’t shake it, couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes, his hands, his lips… He wondered again if it had been merely his imagination, or if his friend really had kissed him the night before. He wondered what it would feel like if Steve kissed him properly, their bodies pressed together, lips locked and tongues twined as that big warm hand worked him over again, stroking over his hard cock with that perfect rhythm… 

Bucky hadn’t even realised he was moving, trailing his hand down his stomach in a pale imitation of the way Steve had touched him, until his fingers curved mindlessly around his erection, sending a shiver of sensation shooting through him. It also wasn't until that moment that he realised he wasn’t imagining his hard cock either and at _that_ discovery he had to bite back a groan. Stupidly, apparently, he'd hoped last night's release would have sated him for a little while longer, because he didn't want to feel like this again, not yet, because what if he still couldn't? Only even as his thoughts raced, his fingers continued to stroke, his hand moving over his length in the same way Steve's hand had touched him and despite his fears, he couldn't bring himself to stop. 

As the sensation built he could feel his body tensing, as much from fear as from pleasure, but he kept going, forcing his hand now, refusing to quit. It was too late to bury his head back in the sand, he just needed to know if he could do this now or not. If Steve had somehow saved him all over again or if he was now beholden to the other man in yet another way. 

He was so strung out that he barely had any room left in his head for pleasure. In fact, there was very little about the experience that he was enjoying and he belatedly realised that this time he probably _could_ just stop. Could take his hand away and let the feeling fade on its own and it would probably be more pleasant, but he didn't. He merely kept dragging his hand up and down, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, as his body arched stiffly into his fist. 

When his orgasm hit, he was so startled that he couldn't bite back his cry of pleasure and he wasn't particularly surprised when the sharp sound was followed barely a minute later by a quiet knock on the door. Before he could summon the brain power to call out, it cracked open and his friend stuck his head through the gap, only to stop where he was when he saw Bucky was wide awake. 

"You ok?" Steve's voice was soft like it had been the previous night and Bucky shivered at the sound of it. 

"Fine," he forced out between panting breaths, the word coming out sharp and rough, "Experimenting," he added, hoping that would be enough to reassure the other man, despite the way he sounded. 

" _Oh_ , right, sorry, I'll just..." Steve's lips twisted, but Bucky couldn't tell if he was amused or embarrassed or something else entirely, "I'll be next door if you need me." 

Bucky nodded, not quite sure he trusted himself to speak and Steve disappeared again, closing the door behind him. 

He didn't relax until he was sure his friend must have reached his own room, only then allowing himself to melt back into the sheets with a sigh. It took him a second to realise that what he was feeling was disappointment and a moment longer to realise why; that despite his earlier desperation there was a part of him that had hoped he'd have an excuse to ask Steve for help again. Still, the fact that he _didn't_ need to was nothing to be sniffed at. He didn't need anyone's help to come, he could do it all on his own, whenever he liked, as often as he liked. He could do it again right now if he wanted, after all he'd barely even gone soft and he was somehow sure it would only take a few strokes to get himself fully hard again. He really _could_ do it right now if he wanted to and suddenly 'right now' was _exactly_ what he wanted. 

Closing his eyes, he settled himself more comfortably against the pillows, trying his best not to think about Steve _next door if he needed him_. Instead he focused on his own body, attempting to relearn what he did and didn't like through a mix of fractured memories and careful exploration. He discovered that the spot just below his ear made his spine tingle when it was touched and found that he very much liked having his nipples pinched too, though it was only when he was a little mean about it that it really took his breath away. 

It made him wonder if he'd always been like that or if the serum had made him less sensitive, but with no way of knowing for sure he brushed the thought aside, simply enjoying the sensation and the effect it had on him. Besides, even if Zola's twisted experiments _had_ fucked up his sensitivity levels, surely they were also to blame for the way his cock now lay thick and heavy against his stomach despite his very recent orgasm. His memories might not be all there, but even he knew that holding an erection like this wasn't exactly normal, especially at his age, cryofreeze notwithstanding. 

In fact, he didn't think he'd had this kind of stamina even as a horny teenager. It left him wondering just how many times he could go, how far he could push himself, how long he could keep going before he couldn't get it up any more, but perhaps that was a question for another time. Right now he had a far simpler question to ask himself, a question that he knew could only help him towards the answer to that other question; what did he like? As his thoughts whirled, his fingers continued to play, toying lazily with his chest, until he finally forced himself out of his head, focusing instead on his mission of self-discovery. 

In contrast to his nipples, he found that the insides of his thighs were deliciously receptive to the gentlest brush of his fingertips and he shuddered helplessly at even the softest strokes. His balls were another sensitive area, but his cock itself needed to be taken firmly in hand to make him feel _really_ good, just the way Steve had done it. In fact, Steve had seemed to know _exactly_ how he needed to be touched and it made him wonder if that was how the other man liked it too. 

It had been nothing more than a wayward thought, but at the mental image that sprung abruptly to life in his head, his already sticky cock fairly pulsed in his hand. For a breathless second he thought he might be about to come again, nearly tumbling over the edge from the mere _thought_ of Steve touching himself. He held on just barely, but he was suddenly so fucking hard he ached with it and he couldn't resist the urge to speed up his movements, stroking himself roughly as he imagined his friend doing the same thing on the other side of the wall. 

Except... He shouldn't be thinking about that he realised abruptly, dragging his hand away from his cock in a desperate effort to control himself, as well as to get a handle on his wayward thoughts. Because yeah he was grateful, so ridiculously fucking grateful for what Steve had done for him, but thinking about his friend like that... It felt like he was betraying his trust somehow. As if he was taking the beauty of the gift that Steve had given him with his help and twisting it into something dirty. 

Forcing his eyes open, he tried to push the images aside, tried to focus on his own body rather than the one in his head. Looking down at himself, he took in the way his cock looked curving up over his abdomen, the way his hand looked, clenched in a tight fist against his hip, but all it did was remind him of how it had felt when _Steve's_ hand had been the one to bring him pleasure. 

With a muffled groan, Bucky forced his right hand down onto the bed, instead wrapping the fingers of his left around his throbbing erection. At least he wouldn't mistake solid fucking metal for the feel of Steve's warm hand and he was too close now to stop completely. Besides, he didn't _want_ to stop. He wanted _this_. Wanted to prove that it wouldn't be like the last time, that he could make it good for himself even without his friend helping him. He meant it too, he _wanted_ to do this alone, but it didn't stop him wanting Steve either. Didn't stop him thinking about Steve's promise as he thrust urgently into his metal fist. He knew the other man hadn't meant anything by it, but locked in the haze of arousal, he couldn't stop playing those words over and over in his head. 

He'd be next door, Steve had said, if Bucky needed him. Only he hadn't specified what he might need him _for_. What if Bucky did need him? Not the way he had needed him last night, but in a different, simpler way. In the way one person might need another, to hold them and kiss them and touch them. What if he took Steve at his word? Went looking for him next door, told him he needed him, asked him to help again? Would he? 

And fuck he was close. So close he'd all but forgotten that he wasn't meant to be thinking about his friend right now. So close that a moment later he was muffling a hoarse cry against his knuckles, biting down so hard that he nearly drew blood in a desperate effort to mute the sound of Steve's name on his lips as he came nearly as hard as he had with the other man's perfect hand around his cock. 

He lay still for a long time afterwards, concentrating on each slow breath, in and out, in an attempt to distract himself from the mess in his head. He felt guilty as all hell for letting his thoughts run away with him and he didn't dare let his friend's name so much as cross his mind now that he was finished, not trusting himself even that much. He could still feel the faint tingle in his body from his recent orgasm, but he wasn't soft yet and he was almost certain he could drag himself through at least one more without much effort, but he wasn't sure he should. He'd already proved his point, hadn't he? Or had he...? He still hadn't managed to get off without Steve's help, even if that help hadn't exactly been consensual. 

It made him feel even worse to think about it like that and yet he couldn't help wondering what his friend would think if he _did_ know, if Bucky actually asked him for permission to think about him while he jerked off. Not that he ever _would_ ask, so it wasn't like it really made a difference, but it didn't stop him picturing Steve's reaction either. His ears would go pink, of course, the colour might even spread to his cheeks, but then he'd probably just smile and tell Bucky to do whatever he needed. Damn Steve with his stupidly big heart and selfless generosity, none of which Bucky was remotely deserving of. 

And so much for not thinking about him, he groaned, thumping his head back against the pillow and trying to ignore the way his body had apparently decided that all thoughts of the Captain required that he immediately stand to attention. As if coming twice wasn't more than enough for one night. 

"Traitor," he muttered, glaring down at his rigid cock and pointedly _not_ touching it. 

It was fine, he could do this. He could do this and not think of Steve at all. He would just think about someone else instead, a girl, one he'd had actual sex with rather than just received a friendly hand job from... He groaned again. 

"Get out of my fucking head, Rogers," he gritted under his breath, glaring up at the ceiling for a moment before abruptly rolling onto his stomach, wondering if a change of view would help. 

It was certainly a different angle and he hissed as his erection came into sudden contact with the sheet underneath him. He remembered this, he realised, this same position but with the soft curves of a woman caught between him and the mattress. It was a little hazy around the edges, but he thought he remembered the silky feel of nylon covered thighs wrapped around his hips, the gentle scrape of a lace edged camisole catching at the trail of hair bisecting his stomach. He remembered how it felt to sink into slick heat and with a harsh groan, Bucky gave into the urge to touch himself again. 

Running his tongue over his left palm a couple of times, figuring a bit of extra lubrication couldn't hurt if he was seriously going for a third, he pushed his metal hand beneath his body, wrapping his fingers around his length yet again. At the same time, he buried his face in the bend of his right arm, his eyes clenched tightly closed as he tried to hang on to the image in his head. She'd been called Evelyn, he thought, and she was by far the most beautiful dame he'd ever managed to coax into his bed. She'd had long blonde hair that came loose from its pins as he fucked her and the fine glimmering strands had wound up fanned out across his pillow like a halo, making her look like a fallen angel. Her smudged red cupid's bow of a mouth had only driven him wilder as she gazed up at him, her clear blue eyes unfathomably trusting even as he thrust into her over and over, dragging her down with him into the inferno. 

He was getting close again now and as the tension built higher, he found it harder and harder to hold on to Evelyn's image in his head. The tighter he tried to cling, the worse her features seemed to blur and morph in his mind until all he had left to hang on to was the memory of those warm eyes burning into his as he arched desperately into his fist. 

His forehead slid slickly against his arm as he moved faster, his moans echoing around the quiet room, and he was so close he could taste it, he just needed a little more. 

"Come on, baby," he whispered to his blue eyed angel, squeezing his fist just a little tighter, and that was enough. With a harsh groan he came, spilling over his hand and onto the sheets beneath him. 

It was only after he rolled onto his back, out of the small but not insignificant wet patch, that it occurred to him that he wasn't sure Evelyn had even _had_ blue eyes. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if perhaps they'd been green rather than blue and her hair, though certainly blonde, had been shot through with more than a hint of strawberry. He was also pretty sure that no dame had _ever_ looked at him like that, and certainly not the ones he'd been able to talk out of their clothes. So those blue eyes he'd been so captivated by; the warmth in them and the trust, those eyes that he _knew_ weren't merely a figment of his imagination... Those eyes belonged to someone else entirely and he didn't have to reach far into his mind to work out who. It was Steve who had always looked at him that way. _Steve_ with his clear blue eyes and perfectly sandy coloured locks... It had always been Steve. 

"Fuck," he declared to the empty room, throwing his arm over his face as if that could block out the image in his head. 

He didn't even know what to think anymore and now he was far too tired to process it. Still, at least in sleep he would be free from all this confusion. After all, there were no soft hands or warm eyes in _his_ dreams and who'd have thought he'd ever have a reason to look _forward_ to one of those hellish nightmares that haunted his sleep. As he closed his eyes, however, allowing his worn out body to slowly sink into oblivion, he almost longed for the simple distraction of his twisted memories of blood and fear. 

\--- 

In the end he wasn't sure what he dreamed about, but when he woke the following morning he felt surprisingly well rested. Perhaps three orgasms before bed was the way to go, although he'd have to be careful if he wanted to test that theory again. Given the state of his sheets after his mini-marathon, it wasn't just the lack of nightmares that left him thankful that his sleep had apparently been undisturbed. As he stripped the bed before joining Steve in the kitchen, he was ridiculously relieved that his friend had had no cause to come and rescue him from his subconscious. 

On the plus, in the cold light of day, he found it far easier to put things into perspective and he realised that his reaction the previous evening may have been a touch over dramatic. After all, surely it was perfectly natural that Steve would have dominated his thoughts after what had happened between them only the night before. His friend was the only person to have given him physical pleasure in seventy years, it was no wonder he was on his mind and there was no reason to freak out about it. He just needed time to readjust, to find out what worked for him now and what he liked. After all, it wasn't as if he was interested in the kind of women he'd mooned over in his youth. He wasn't that man any more and girls like Evelyn, they were what the old Bucky wanted. The new Bucky... Well he just needed to figure out what this Bucky wanted. He just needed time. 

To help the process along a little, he figured he may as well do a little research, see what other guys liked these days and work out if any of that did it for him. He'd always reckoned his tastes were fairly mainstream; the dames he'd courted had often made him the envy of all his friends and as far as he knew, he'd jerked off to exactly the same pinup girls as the rest of the guys down the docks. Sure he'd changed since then, but so had the world. Perhaps he just needed to update his fantasies to go with the times. 

That said, the Internet, useful as it was, seemed like quite a daunting prospect and he'd already stumbled across enough things by accident that he wasn't sure he was quite ready to go looking for it on purpose. At least not without some vague idea of where to start. Instead he found himself at a standard little newsstand, picking up a thick glossy magazine that promised to contain over 100 of the hottest women on the planet. Admittedly he didn't have the highest hopes; it seemed like a fairly tall order to begin with and he was familiar enough with the way the press worked now that he could easily see through a hyped up tagline, but it was a starting point and right now that was all he was looking for. 

He was curled up in the living room that night after dinner, flicking dispassionately through the pages, when Steve shuffled into the room, distracting him immediately from the spread of airbrushed pictures open in his lap. 

"I, er, got you something," Steve's ears were bright red as he dropped down onto the sofa beside him. 

"Oh?" he put his magazine aside as his friend offered him a plastic bottle. 

"It makes it feel good and it works a lot better than spit. It'll stop you accidentally rubbing yourself raw if you go a few times in one night," Steve explained as Bucky took the proffered bottle, his eyes flicking down to read the label declaring it to be 'personal lubricant', before returning to the other man's faintly flushed face. 

"Know that from experience, do you?" he teased. 

"I do actually. Never really had the chance to take this for a ride back during the war," Steve gestured vaguely towards his body, "Made up for lost time when I woke up here and turns out I can easily go three or four times in a row." 

"What makes you think I can go that many? Whatever they did to me ain't a whole lot like what they did to you." 

"I know." His friend's eyes dimmed for a moment, before he grinned suddenly, "But you've never been quiet, Buck." 

"You mean you... _Fuck_ ," he groaned, wondering exactly how much the other man had heard the previous night, let alone on all those occasions when he'd tried and failed to get himself off, "Sorry, Stevie." 

"Don't be, it's infinitely preferable to hearing you waking yourself up screaming in terror and besides, I got used to it a _long_ time ago." 

"Back then too?" Bucky gaped, "Why'd you never say anything?" 

"What was I meant to say? 'Quit jerking off all the time, I can hear you through the wall'?" 

"Well yeah," he laughed. 

Steve shrugged, "I didn't mind. Was better than listening to some dame shrieking your name instead." 

"They didn't shriek," Bucky retorted, even as he wondered if he really needed to defend the honour of girls probably long since dead, and wasn't that a depressing thought. 

"They fucking _did_ ," Steve grimaced, "You had that one girlfriend, Millie? Used to sound like you were pulling out her fingernails or something when she came round, it was _awful_." 

"Yeah ok, she _did_ shriek," he agreed with a shudder, a petite brunette immediately springing to mind who had indeed wailed like a banshee whenever he'd made her feel good. 

If memory served, and admittedly there was no guarantee that it did, he'd only kept her around as long as he had because she'd been so willing to jump into bed with him. He thought he'd enjoyed it too, even if the more pleasurable details of the relationship seemed far harder to recall than the shrill unpleasantness of the sounds she'd made. He did remember bragging about her mouth to some of the guys down the docks though, so even if he couldn't remember the act itself, it at least suggested she'd been good to him. Bucky was pretty sure he'd only ever talked about the girls that were worth talking about, after all, he'd had enough of them. 

"I'm surprised she didn't deafen you," Steve continued, while Bucky continued in his efforts to remember what sex with her had actually been like, "it was bad enough on the other side of the wall and I could only hear out of one ear." 

"It was a close thing," he chuckled, before adding with a smirk, "Although if she was as good with her mouth as I think she was, it was probably worth it." 

"No blow job could _ever_ be worth listening to that," his friend insisted. 

"That's a rather bold statement. You had a lot of blow jobs then?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked the question, only he and Steve hadn't really talked about sex since before the war, back when his best friend was an innocent virgin who'd barely even been kissed and he couldn't help being curious. 

"I've had my fair share," Steve admitted, his ears going pink again, "More than, probably. No shortage of people wanting to suck Captain America's dick." 

"What about Steve Rogers?" Bucky pressed, easily picking up on what his friend hadn't said. 

"A few more than when I was small, perhaps, but not many," he gave Bucky a flat look, "Funny how it's even harder for people to see past _this_ than it was for them to see past the way I used to be." 

"Well there's more of you to look past now. Lotta big bulging muscles to get distracted by." 

"They don't distract you," Steve pointed out and Bucky suddenly felt horribly guilty for every single filthy thought he'd had the previous night. Not that his friend's appearance, then _or_ now, had anything to do with that, but he'd been objectifying the man just the same. 

"Well that's because I'm special," he replied after a beat, well aware that it was a weak retort but incapable of coming up with anything better. 

"Yeah, you are," Steve agreed with a fond smile that only made him feel worse, though he couldn't help basking a little in the warmth of the other man's affection. 

"You are too, you know," Bucky assured him, the weight of the bottle still resting in his palm only proving his point, "Always were." He waved the gift under Steve's nose, "I mean who else buys their best pal a bottle of 'personal lubricant' when they _know_ it's just gonna end with them being kept up all night listening to his howls through the wall." 

"I assure you I'm regretting it already," Steve groaned, but there was laughter in his eyes and he didn't sound remotely sorry, "Might keep the links to myself for now though, try and get an hour or two of peace at least." 

"Links? What links?" Bucky sat up a little straighter, his curiosity piqued by the rosy colour once again staining the tips of Steve's ears. 

"Guessing you haven't had much chance to look into pornography this century?" the other man nodded towards his discarded magazine. 

"I've seen a bit," he admitted, "Mostly by accident though. Wasn't really in a state to go looking for it on purpose before now," he added, shooting his friend a grateful smile. 

"I'll send you a few good starting points," Steve promised, "Not sure what you're into these days, but I would ask that you invest in some headphones if girls like Millie still do it for you." 

"Punk," Bucky laughed, digging his elbow into the other man's ribs and making him yelp. 

"You want those links or not?" Steve warned and Bucky immediately retracted his arm. 

"Yes please," he twisted his lips up into his most angelic smile. 

Steve just shook his head as something else seemed to occur to him, "Just a tip: if you don't know what something is, you might wanna look up what it means _before_ you click the links." 

"Learned that the hard way, did you?" 

His friend looked faintly nauseous at that and Bucky made a mental note to follow the advice even as he shot him a teasing grin, "You're still my innocent little Stevie underneath all that, ain't ya?" 

" _Really_ not innocent, Buck," Steve snorted and Bucky couldn't help himself. 

"Oh? Do tell." 

"I'm not giving you a run through of my sexual exploits for you to jerk off to," Steve chided, though his voice was light, obviously not realising how hard his words would hit, "You wanna get off on other people fucking, go watch some porn." 

"I might just do that," Bucky declared, turning his back slightly as he got to his feet in the hope of schooling his expression into something a little less guilty before he looked back at his friend. "Thanks for this," he raised the bottle, "I'm sure it'll come in very _hand_ -y," he finished, waggling his eyebrows. 

The other man groaned at the pun, rolling his eyes for good measure, but he was still chuckling to himself as Bucky headed towards his bedroom. 

He felt a little odd as he closed the door behind him and started to undress, like there was something slightly clinical about coming to bed with the express intention of jerking off. Weird or not, however, he was no less ready for it and when he sprawled across the mattress, the bottle Steve had given him within easy reach, he had no intention of letting the awkwardness of it all stop him from getting off. 

Still, he started slow, building himself up to it rather than diving straight in, trailing his fingers over his pecs and pinching his nipples between his fingers until he hissed in pleasure. Only as soon as the sound escaped his mouth, he was biting down hard on his lip in an attempt to stifle himself, conscious for the first time of how he might sound. Not that Steve was next door to hear him right now, so perhaps he didn't have to try and stay quiet this one last time. 

Abruptly realising the urgency of his situation, he scrabbled on the bed for the lubricant, wanting to make the most of this brief window of time while Steve was presumably out of earshot. Flipping open the bottle cap, he poured a little of the gel-like substance into his palm, before wrapping his fingers around his cock. It was cool at first, but then so was his other hand, and he barely even shivered at the sensation. At least not until he'd given himself the first full stroke. At that, however, he was almost relieved that he didn't have to stay quiet just yet, because _fuck_. Steve was right, he realised immediately, it _did_ make it feel good and Bucky's hand began to move almost of its own accord, speeding up without his permission. 

The slick sound of his fist sliding rapidly over his cock seemed to echo in the quiet room and he wondered if even that was enough to be audible through the wall. Because sure Steve wasn't there right _now_ , but he would be later or tomorrow or the day after that. So when Bucky inevitably did this again while the other man was in bed, would he hear every stroke of his hand or was it just his groans that were loud enough to get through? 

It had never really occurred to him to stay quiet before, hell he hadn't even been aware he _wasn't_ quiet until tonight, and he suddenly found himself incredibly conscious of every sound that came out of his mouth. When he sucked in a sharp breath or gasped in pleasure, he wondered if it was loud enough that Steve might be able to hear it. When he sped up the movement of his hand until he moaned, he wondered if _that_ was the point at which Steve would hear him. When he twisted his wrist, tightening his grip so that he couldn't help but cry out at the sensation, he knew _that_ at least must have been audible through the wall between their bedrooms. And yeah the other man wasn't there now but he would be, he _had_ been. He'd heard it all. While Bucky had lain there touching himself and thinking of Steve, Steve had been right next door, listening to him, presumably unable to help from _thinking_ of him, even if he was merely cursing him for his volume. 

It wasn't the same thing, of course, not even close, but even so... The thought of Steve lying in the dark, listening to Bucky getting himself off, sent a shiver down his spine, his fist clenching automatically and that was it for him. Convinced that just this once he could be safe in the knowledge that Steve was _not_ next door just yet, he didn't even try to bite back his shout of pleasure as he tumbled over the edge, his whole body trembling with the strength of his orgasm. 

As he slowly came down, he once again found himself thanking his lucky stars for giving him a friend like Steve, because _damn_. He hadn't even known personal lubricant was a thing and wouldn't that have been a tragedy, to miss out on something that felt so good. He was half tempted to go again right away and he had yet to catch his breath, but before he could start anything in earnest he heard the familiar ping of his cell phone. He briefly considered ignoring it, but there were so few people that had his number, he figured it was probably worth checking just in case the world was ending or something. Wiping his hand clean on the sleep pants he hadn't even bothered to put on, he reached for his cell and peered at the screen, smiling when he saw Steve's name next to the little envelope icon. Curiously he tapped at the screen until the email was displayed and then his jaw dropped. 

The bulk of the screen was filled with links and from the names of them it was perfectly clear that Steve had sent him the promised websites. The accompanying message however... 

**Subject: Encore**

**Bravo on another thrilling performance! A little lacking in volume at times perhaps, but a solid effort nonetheless. Hopefully these will help you up your game before your next show.**

**Steve x**

**PS. Remember to stay hydrated!**

"Punk!" he yelled at the wall when he finally managed to pick his chin up off of the floor. 

"Welcome!" he heard Steve call back, the sound slightly muffled, but more than clear enough to be understood. 

Bucky just shook his head. So Steve wanted a show did he? Wanted him to be louder? Not that he wasn't perfectly aware that his friend was just having a little fun, but two could play at that game and now Steve had all but asked for it. Oh it was _on_ , he grinned to himself. 

Tossing his cell aside, having no need for pornography just now and too wrapped up in whatever the hell was going on through the wall to even attempt to distract himself from thinking about Steve, he poured out a little more lubricant and settled back against the pillows. He wasn't fully hard anymore, but then he hadn't softed all that much either and it only took a couple of gentle strokes to get himself standing to attention. 

"Aye aye, Captain," he murmured with a snicker, even as he found himself wondering yet again where the line was between audible and not. Still, he didn't want to skirt the line this time, he wanted to be so far over it that he could be sure Steve would hear _everything_. 

Experimentally, he let his head fall back on a low moan as he stroked himself slowly. It was an intentional noise, but exaggerated rather than faked and it slipped easily from between his lips. Encouraged, he continued to touch, teasing himself in an effort to drag more helpless sounds from his throat; sounds he forced out at an unnatural volume, but sounds he'd have made anyway. Sounds that seemed to feed into the next and then the next until it took barely any effort at all to keep a steady stream falling from his mouth. He was probably driving Steve crazy, but the man had fucking _asked_ for it. Besides the thought of Steve lying there on the other side of the wall, listening to Bucky do this, hearing every desperate moan, only made it easier for him to keep himself loud. He _wanted_ Steve to hear him. He wanted it so fucking bad. 

In the end, he was so focused on making as much noise as he could that his orgasm rather crept up on him. One minute he was groaning loudly, bucking his hips just enough for the movement to be evident in the slight waver of his voice and the next he was crying out in surprise as he came all over himself. 

This time he didn't even pause, stroking himself through it and then simply continuing to move. Even in this he forced a little extra volume into it, listening to his own whimpers of oversensitivity and wondering if Steve could hear, if he understood what it meant, had guessed what Bucky was doing to himself. A little more lubricant helped ease the way and as he continued to slide his hand up and down he didn't even need to try to be loud any more. Every twist of his wrist triggered a guttural groan or breathy moan, his skin still tingling with aftershocks as he forced himself back towards the edge. 

With his left hand he pinched roughly at his chest, crying out when the metal bit a little too sharply into his sensitive flesh, but he didn't stop, _couldn't_ stop. He wondered if Steve was still listening or if he'd shoved his head under a pillow just to get some peace. If he _was_ listening though... Was it affecting him, even just a little? Was the thought of what Bucky was doing, were the filthy sounds he was making, enough to send the (almost) perfectly pure Captain's mind into the gutter? Would he give in if they did? Was Steve touching himself right now? Would Bucky even know if he was? He couldn't hear a thing of course, but then he never had, even back when the walls between them had been paper thin. So he could only assume that Steve had always been quiet... So he may well be jerking himself right now and though Bucky had no way of knowing that for sure, there was also nothing to prove that he wasn't. 

_Come on Stevie_ , he thought to himself, not daring to even _breathe_ the words aloud, but letting them fill his head instead. _You enjoying this, huh? You wanna come too?_ He tightened his own fist until he hissed at the sensation, the low, rough sound interrupting the stream of gasps and moans and breathless cries that he didn't even need to try to exaggerate any more. _Come on, Rogers, come for me, let me hear you_. Except that it was _Bucky_ that came. _Bucky_ who swore so loudly as his orgasm crashed through him that he thought the whole damn city might hear him. And whatever Steve might be doing on the other side of the wall, whether he was jerking off or hiding under a pillow or already sound asleep, it didn't matter just then. In Bucky's head he was coming too; head thrown back, eyes closed tight as he spilled all over himself, Bucky's name a silent sigh on his lips. 

" _Fuck_ ," he repeated, a little more quietly, but still loud enough that if Steve _was_ listening he would undoubtedly hear it. 

This time he forced his hands away from his oversensitised body as he collapsed back against the bed, panting roughly. Whether or not he had another one in him, he was just too drained to try it. Even his throat felt slightly raw from the stain and remembering what Steve had said, he wiped his hand on his pants before reaching blindly for the water bottle he kept on his nightstand. 

He was just contemplating whether he had the energy to go and locate some clean pants or if he was going to give in to his lethargy and sleep naked when he heard a sound through the wall. For just a moment his heart seemed to stop as he wondered if he was actually hearing what he thought he was hearing, but then his brain caught up with his rather exhausted libido and he realised that what he could hear was applause. Steve was giving him a round of fucking _applause_. 

With a tired laugh, Bucky reached for his cell, replying to his friend's email with ' _Thank you and goodnight_ ', before rolling over and immediately passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't that Bucky particularly expected that one night to be the end of it, but rather that he hadn't thought Steve would be so keen to continue encouraging him. He knew how stubborn his friend could be, knew how hard it was to turn him from something once his attention had been caught, but he just didn't understand _why_ the other man didn't want to let this one go. What could Steve possibly be getting from riling Bucky up until he was practically screaming through the wall? It didn't make sense, but the fact was, he was simply enjoying it too much to question it too deeply. 

The only trouble was, the more Steve provoked him, the harder it became to keep his thoughts on safe ground. He struggled at the best of times to stop himself from thinking about his friend and the nights when the other man wished him goodnight with a teasing comment or, that one time, with a new bottle of lube, only made it that much worse. More than once he'd had to catch himself before he accidentally shouted Steve's name in the heat of the moment and he was genuinely terrified that the next time might be the time it just slipped out. 

He'd tried all sorts in an effort to distract himself. He'd watched every type of porn he could find, starting with the stuff Steve had recommended, but quickly moving beyond it. He'd explored all kinds of weird and wonderful kinks in an increasingly desperate attempt to take his mind off of his friend for five damn minutes. Eventually he'd even started browsing the gay categories, though he was so far gone on the good Captain by then that his newly discovered interest in naked men hadn't even come as a shock. So apparently he was queer. So what? The only problem with his bisexuality was that, rather than helping him keep a lid on his guilty fantasies, his new viewing habits had merely broadened the scope of his imagination. Now when he jerked off he found himself wondering how it would feel if Steve did this to him while he was chained to the bed or after stuffing him full of anal beads. The only line he refused to cross was imaging Steve doing anything more than touching either Bucky or himself, convinced somehow that once he _did_ cross that line there really would be no turning back. 

In the depths of his frustration, he again considered hiring someone to help him. After all, he knew now that he could trust himself not to lash out in the heat of the moment and perhaps having someone else's hands on him might be enough to finally get Steve out of his system. Only he wasn't all that sure he _wanted_ anyone else to touch him and he sure as hell couldn't bear the thought of allowing a stranger to do anything more intimate than that. In fact, the thought of letting another person, _any_ person besides Steve, so much as glimpse him in such a vulnerable state, let alone touching him while his guard was down, made his skin crawl. With Steve though... He didn't just want to _let_ Steve touch him, he wanted to _beg_ Steve to touch him. Wanted Steve to do a whole lot more than touch him, for that matter. 

He wasn't sure when his lusty fascination had developed into a full blown crush, but there was no denying it. He wanted Steve. Only Steve. He wanted to hug him and kiss him and touch him, wanted to _be_ with him. He wanted to hold hands and go on dates and gaze stupidly at each other across the dinner table. Wanted that just as much as he wanted to do all those things he didn't dare let himself think about. He wanted to know what Steve looked like when he came and if he really was as quiet as he seemed. He wanted to know if he could make Steve _scream_. 

Of course, he never said a word about it, simply carried on as normal. Or as normal as it was possible to be while spending most nights loudly jerking off for the apparent entertainment of his best friend. He did wonder sometimes if it was possible that Steve wasn't just playing, if there was more going on in his head than Bucky was aware of. He knew by now, at least, that his friend was about as straight as he was himself, but knowing the other man was equally as interested in men as he was in women turned out to be of little comfort. The fact was, Steve had always worn his heart on his sleeve and beyond their odd little game, the other man had given him no indication that he wanted anything further. Surely if he did want more, he'd have said something by now, _done_ something. 

Bucky was genuinely beginning to fear he'd go crazy before things resolved themselves, when Steve suddenly announced that he was going on a mission half a world away. Of course, Bucky was perfectly used to his friend coming and going at strange hours or vanishing off to Europe at a moment's notice only to return just as abruptly three days later, covered in half-healed scrapes and bruises. The unusual part was the advance warning. Steve rarely had the chance to give him more than an hour or so's notice and he hardly ever knew how long he'd been away for. So when Steve sat down for dinner and told him he would be leaving the following morning and would be gone for at least one night, maybe two, he wasn't quite sure how to process it. 

Even after all this time, Bucky still hated it when Steve was away. Hell, he hated letting him out of his sight at the best of times and it was significantly harder when he knew his friend was off recklessly throwing himself into dangerous situations. And yet... As much as it killed him to let Steve go, this time it was almost a relief. Knowing he'd have a whole night to himself without having to worry about what he might let slip. Being able to really let himself go for what felt like the first time... well that was no small thing. 

When Steve walked out the door the following morning, Bucky waited only long enough to be sure he was really gone before heading straight back to bed. He started off slow, just wanting to take the edge off, jerking himself off with a lube covered hand. Only then he was coming and for the first time he didn't have to bite back Steve's name on his tongue and it shouldn't have mattered that much, not really, but the mere sound of it echoing around the room was enough to send another wave of pleasure surging through him. 

It escalated quickly after that, as he allowed himself to explore in a manner he'd never have risked while Steve was in earshot. After all, he'd watched more than enough videos to leave him wondering and when he pressed that first finger into himself he knew almost immediately that it would not be the last. As he slipped a second finger and later a third and even a fourth into his deliciously sensitive hole, he could only be relieved that he had waited for this; waited for a time when he could really let go and lose control, because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he could _never_ risk doing this when Steve was home. It felt like nothing he'd experienced before, made each release so much more intense than he'd ever imagined it could be. It was all too easy to keep going after that, to keep chasing the feeling over and over again and with the apartment to himself, there was nothing to stop him. 

No less than seven orgasms and an exhausted nap later, Bucky was once again sprawled across his bed, his ass stuffed with two of his metal fingers, while his right hand teased lightly over his cock. He felt better than he had before he'd passed out, but he was still a little sensitive and he knew if he didn't take it easy he'd have to stop completely and he didn't want that. Who knew when he'd have another chance like this? Because whatever game he was playing with his friend, no matter how loud Steve seemed to encourage him to be, surely the other man had his limits and Bucky's throat was almost raw from his cries of pleasure every time his fingers so much as skimmed over that bundle of nerves inside him. And that was assuming he was even _capable_ of keeping himself from screaming Steve's name while he did it, from begging and pleading for _Steve_ to be the one to touch him, to... But no. He abruptly cut off the thought before it could fully form. 

Even now, he wouldn't let his fantasies go further, wouldn't permit the thought to even cross his mind of what else Steve could use to make him feel like this, but it didn't stop him playing. Didn't stop him fucking himself as hard as he could on the unyielding metal of his left hand, pushing his body as far as he could, even as he wondered how much further he could bear to take it. Of course there had been nights when he'd exceeded his usual two or three orgasms. Once he'd even gone for five when he'd already been three deep by the time Steve got home from some gala or other and dropped him a message teasing him that he was already more entertaining than the party had been. Still, he'd never really experimented properly, never allowed himself to see how much his body could actually take until now. 

In the end he wasn't sure how many he managed, losing track somewhere around his twentieth, late in the afternoon, but he'd continued well into the night and there had been plenty more. By the time he finally lost consciousness for the final time that day, he could barely so much as raise his head, the slightest brush of his fingers anywhere on his skin sending shockwaves of almost agonising bliss through his body. He wasn't even sure why he'd forced himself through his last few orgasms, the pain far outweighing the pleasure by then, but he'd somehow gotten so deep that he hadn't been able to stop, inexplicably determined to push his body as close to breaking point as he could. 

It was almost noon by the time he finally surfaced the next day and it wasn't until a good hour later that he managed to drag himself out of the gruesome tangle of his filthy sheets. After a hearty breakfast, eaten naked and standing in the middle of the kitchen to avoid any sort of contact with his sticky and still slightly oversensitised skin, he took himself off for a much needed shower, washing himself as gingerly as possible before tackling the bedroom. As he stripped the bed, he seriously considered burning the sheets, but ultimately settled for sticking them on the hottest wash the machine could handle and hoping for the best. 

The rest of the day he spent carefully _not_ touching himself, knowing he needed to give his body a break. After all, lube could only do so much and even after a full night's sleep he was _still_ sore, both inside and out. By the time he headed to bed that evening, properly fed and watered, his enhanced healing had finally managed to fix the bulk of the damage he'd done. In fact, the only evidence of what he'd forced his body to endure the day before was the lightest of aches in his ass and even that he thought might be more psychological than physical. Still, despite his swift recovery, he'd had no intention of going again today. Except that when he finally slipped beneath the fresh sheets of his bed, it was to the knowledge that Steve had yet to return and he found he needed the comfort of what had somehow become his routine, not to mention the distraction. 

He took it slow this time, intentionally avoiding the intensity of yesterday's antics and he was moaning softly, his left hand stroking teasingly up and down his chest while his right moved over his cock, when he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Biting his lip, he considered stopping and going to welcome his friend, but he didn't think Steve would appreciate getting prodded by Bucky's erection if he tried to hug him in this state. Instead he increased the speed of his hand, groaning as he forced his body to the peak faster than he'd initially intended. The thought of Steve being home, maybe even right next door, was more than enough to rile him up however, and within moments he was tumbling over the edge with a low cry of pleasure. 

He gave himself a minute or so to catch his breath, willing his cock to go down and _stay_ down, then dragged himself out of bed. He paused for only as long as it took to clean up and pull on some pyjama pants, before slipping out into the hallway. The apartment was as dark as he'd left it when he retired for the evening, but when he peered into the main room, the familiar shape of the shield propped against the wall made his heart skip and he quickly headed for Steve's bedroom instead. As he approached, he saw the light spilling out from beneath the closed door and his steps sped up, his need to see his friend, to check he was really ok, driving every other thought from his head. Knocking once, he pushed open the portal and stuck his head inside. 

"Steve? Are you...?" he started only to trail off abruptly, his words fading to nothing as he registered the sight in front of him. 

For just a second he stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked on Steve, naked and sprawled across the sheets, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and staring back at Bucky with wide eyes. 

"Fuck, sorry!" he gasped finally, forcing himself out of the room even as the other man belatedly broke through his own shock, dragging the sheets over his exposed form. 

It was all Bucky could do to get himself to leave and when the door clicked shut behind him, he merely slumped against the wall beside it, eyes staring unseeingly at the opposite side of the hallway. Steve had been... He had... Bucky swallowed hard, raking a hand through his hair. If he lived to be two hundred, if Hydra caught up to him and scrambled his brain every day for the rest of his sorry life, he was absolutely certain that he would _never_ forget the way Steve had looked in that moment; head tipped back, lips parted on a breath, his perfect body flushed with heat and sheened with the barest glitter of sweat, and his hand... Fucking _hell_. Bucky knew what that hand felt like, knew exactly how well Steve could use it and... He jumped, yanked from his thoughts when the door suddenly flew open and his friend tumbled into the corridor wrapped in a thick towelling dressing gown. 

"Oh!" Steve gasped when he saw him, stopping so abruptly he nearly fell over. "Are you ok?" he added once he'd righted himself. As if Bucky would ever be just 'ok' again. 

"Yeah, I..." he forced his gaze to remain locked on the other man's face, carefully _not_ allowing it to drop lower than his chin, no matter that he was covered up now, "I heard you come in and wanted to check you were ok. I didn't mean to..." he waved his hand vaguely, "I'm sorry," he finished awkwardly. 

"It's ok," Steve laughed softly, "I would've come to see you when I got home, but then I heard you so... I figured you'd be at it for a while and I didn't want to interrupt." 

"But how could you know...?" he trailed off confusedly. 

"You get louder the longer you go on for," the other man informed him, now grinning widely, "That was only your first, right?" 

" _Damn_ ," he huffed out incredulously, wondering how the fuck they'd got to the point where Steve knew how many times he'd come just from the sounds he made through the damn wall. 

This game they'd somehow stumbled into was so ridiculously fucked up and yet it didn't seem to be harming their relationship at all. They were closer than ever, comfortable in each other's company, verging on flirtatious when they talked about this and yet... they were still just friends. And sure, a big part of Bucky wished it could be more, but that didn't mean he didn't love their friendship just as it was, wouldn't literally kill to protect what they had between them. 

"I probably shouldn't have told you that, huh?" Steve teased, pulling Bucky from his thoughts and prompting an answering smirk. 

"Hey you should be _thankful_ I'm easy to read. Maybe if _you_ weren't so damn quiet I wouldn't have interrupted." 

"Noted," his friend grinned, lips quirking upwards into that same mischievous smile he'd always had, the one that pretty much guaranteed Trouble, with a capital T. 

"I know that look..." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve declared, as if butter wouldn't melt, "Although I _am_ sorry for interrupting your evening," he waggled his eyebrows. 

"I'm just glad you're home safe," Bucky admitted, voice going unintentionally soft as his eyes raked over the other man's face, this time checking for the telltale signs of freshly healed injuries. 

"I'm fine," Steve promised equally gently, "Not even a scratch." 

"Good," he nodded, before forcing a lighter tone, "Well in that case, I'll let you get back to it..." he glanced towards the bedroom door with a smirk. 

"You too," his friend chuckled, "Know you're gonna want at least one more before you go to sleep, right?" 

"Right," Bucky agreed, bemusedly shaking his head as he bid Steve goodnight and retreated to his own room. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, he was stripping out of his pants, not even bothering to pretend that he wasn't planning to pick right back up where he'd left off. The memory of Steve's hand wrapped around his own cock was better than any porn he'd ever seen and he was reaching for the lube before he'd even fully settled on the bed. Only before he'd so much as flipped open the cap he heard something from the other side of the wall and he froze immediately, straining in an effort to pick up any further sound. Of course he knew it couldn't be Steve, or at least not Steve doing _that_. For one thing, he was pretty convinced that unlike himself, Bucky's interruption had most probably killed the other man's erection completely. In all likelihood he'd just dropped something or slammed his dresser a little too hard or... 

His thoughts skidded to a halt as the sound repeated itself. A sound that couldn't be anything other than a low moan. Except it _couldn't_ be that, because Steve didn't _make_ noises, Bucky _knew_ he didn't. So, unless his friend had never jerked off while Bucky was home in all their years of living together, which, given what he'd just walked in on, was clearly not the case, then Steve was doing it on _purpose_. 

" _Ohh yeah..._ " 

Bucky dropped the lube with an audible thump as Steve's voice filtered through the wall, faintly muffled, but still perfectly understandable... and very clearly fake. 

Bucky snorted loudly as he retrieved the bottle, though he didn't waste any more time as he slicked up his palm and took himself in hand. He had no idea what the hell Steve was playing at, but if he was planning to provide that sort of entertainment, Bucky was damn well going to make the most of it. 

" _Mmmm, feels so good..._ " Steve continued and he could hear the hint of laughter in the other man's voice, but he didn't stop and neither did Bucky, though he forced his hand to stay slow, not wanting whatever the hell this was to be over too soon. 

Of course, he had no idea how long his friend would keep it going before he lost interest, but Bucky had no intention of coming before Steve stopped. The sounds alone, faked or not, were almost better than the feel of his hand as he lazily stroked himself and he found himself holding his breath as he listened for more. 

" _Fuck..._ " Steve gasped a moment later and Bucky didn't even think to bite back his answering moan of pleasure when the curse sent a shiver racing down his spine. 

The pause between words was longer this time and Bucky nearly bit through his lip in an effort not to make any more sound, fleetingly terrified that he'd somehow scared Steve off. In fact, by the time the other man spoke up again, he'd half convinced himself that his friend hadn't actually expected Bucky to be jerking off while he pretended to moan and groan in the room next door, no matter that he'd all but told him to go and finish himself off. 

" _Yeah, fuck, just like that..._ " Steve continued after what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but felt like an age to Bucky. 

Only this time there was a breathlessness to his tone that didn't sound quite as fake as the rest of it had. And Bucky knew it was a ridiculous thought, but what if... What if Steve had picked up where he'd left off too? What if Steve was jerking himself off less than a dozen feet away, just on the other side of the wall? What if the waver Bucky could hear in his voice really _was_ genuine? 

" _Mmm, come on, give it to me harder..._ " 

Releasing his lip from between his teeth, Bucky didn't even try to stifle his own sounds of pleasure at that, giving in to the temptation to tighten his grip as his friend's silken words poured into his ear like sin. 

" _Faster..._ " Steve moaned roughly and helplessly he did as he was told, keening loudly as the pace of his hand increased, driving him inexorably closer to the edge. " _Oh, fuck, please, I-_ " 

The other man's words choked off abruptly, leaving Bucky with such an obvious conclusion to jump to and yet... He didn't think Steve had gone quiet because he'd come, he thought he'd gone quiet because he was _close_. Too close to keep playing games. Bucky though... As Steve had pointed out time and time again, he had never been quiet and the closer he was the louder he got, so... 

"Yeah, that's it," he called out experimentally, his own voice low and husky with need, but surely still loud enough to be easily audible, "Feels so good, I'm so close, baby." 

The endearment slipped out without any conscious thought, but it was probably better than calling Steve by name, so he went with it, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake as he continued to talk. His own hand was practically a blur over his skin by now and he was so fucking close he could taste it and yet he wanted a little something more to push him over the edge. 

"You close, baby?" he asked the wall, imagining how Steve might look right now with his own hand flying over his cock, his back arching perfectly as he thrust urgently yet silently into his fist, "You gonna come for me?" 

He sucked in a harsh breath, his own body trembling as he teetered on the edge, so fucking near it and yet not quite there. He wanted Steve to come too, needed it, even though he couldn't possibly know for sure whether the other man was even still going, still _awake_ for that matter. He groaned again, long and loud and desperate, hoping against hope, but there was no response. There was nothing more that he could do and he supposed his imagination had carried him this far... 

"Come for me," he demanded roughly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to picture Steve doing just that, spilling over his own hand at Bucky's command. 

It was nearly, so nearly enough... And then he heard it. It was the barest hiss of sound, but it was unequivocally a " _Yes_ " and that was it for him. With a curse he crashed over the edge of the precipice, Steve's name slipping from his tongue before he could stop it. 

In the immediate aftermath Bucky was too blissed out to fully realise what he'd done, but as his heart rate began to slow it belatedly hit him _hard_. Steve's name. He had come crying out _Steve's name_ while his friend was right _there_ , just next door. All those weeks, _months_ of keeping it locked inside, pretending he was imagining some dame from his past or a pornstar from one of those videos Steve had sent him, and in one stupid moment he'd torn down every scrap of pretense. Except... Except they'd been playing a game right? Not just him, but the both of them. Surely it wasn't unreasonable to assume that he'd got carried away or confused or... something. Surely Steve wouldn't hold it against him when it had all been a dumb game. Just a _game_...


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky did not sleep well that night, but when the scent of frying dragged him once more into consciousness, he finally gave in to it and forced himself out of bed. Stumbling blearily into the kitchen he was greeted by a broad smile and a heaped pile of bacon, eggs and what looked like half a loaf of freshly buttered toast. 

"Mornin'," Steve said sunnily as he put two nearly overflowing plates down on the table, "Coffee?" 

"Er, yeah, thanks," he pulled out a chair and sat down as he watched the other man pottering around the room, humming under his breath as he fixed a couple of mugs of coffee, "You're in a good mood today." 

"Yesterday went well," Steve shrugged. 

"' _Yesterday went well'_?" Bucky repeated incredulously, certain that his friend had _never_ come back from a mission this chirpy, no matter how flawlessly it had been executed. 

"It did!" Steve's tone turned defensive as he settled into the seat opposite him, sliding his drink across the table, "We did what we needed to do and none of us got hurt." 

"Ok," Bucky accepted, too tired to push. 

"And besides, I got home in time to see you last night," the other man continued casually, the words sounding almost like an afterthought, were it not for the meaning behind them. 

"I said I was sorry," he muttered into his coffee, wondering if this was it, the moment their game ended in tears. 

"That wasn't a complaint," Steve pointed out, forking up a mouthful of food. "I'm glad I got to see you," he added when Bucky did nothing more than stare at him. 

"You always see me when you get back," he said finally, not quite sure what the other man was getting at, "I live here." 

"I know," his friend sighed as if it was _Bucky_ who was being difficult, "But I thought you'd be asleep by the time I got in and I'd have to wait until morning to see you." 

"And that would have been... bad?" he pressed, slowly beginning to realise that whatever was going on in Steve's head, whilst he was sure it wasn't simply about a mission gone well, neither did he seem upset over the level up that had occurred in their game the previous evening. 

"Not _bad_ , I don't need you to wait up for me or anything, I just..." his friend sighed again, only this time he sounded tired, his cheerful mood vanishing almost before Bucky's eyes. 

"It's ok," he interrupted, reaching across the table to squeeze Steve's hand, "I'm glad I saw you too." 

It was only after the words had already left his mouth that he realised how they could be taken and he hastily ducked his head, concentrating on his breakfast rather than meeting the other man's gaze. Of course he was glad he'd seen Steve. He was particularly glad, in fact, that he'd got to see _all_ of Steve, but that wasn't something he was supposed to admit to. 

"It was Hydra," his friend blurted suddenly and at that Bucky's head shot up, "The mission, I mean, it was a Hydra base we went after. There was a guy there, tried to sell us his secrets in exchange for his freedom and he talked about you, about some of the missions you were sent on. He even said he'd been there a few times when they pulled you out of cryo." 

"Oh," Bucky had no idea what to say to that. 

"He's dead now," Steve stated matter of factly, "But it hit me kinda hard, so coming home to you, seeing you so _alive_ and-and _happy_... I really needed that last night." 

"You should have said, I would have stayed up with you. We coulda done something together; watched a movie or-" 

"I thought we _did_ do something together," Steve interrupted, his expression suddenly brightening into the wide smile from before, "And listening to you grabbing life by the balls, so to speak?" he smirked when Bucky snorted at the phrasing, "That's what I needed most last night. Seeing your face, your _smile_. Knowing you're safe, that they can't hurt you anymore and that you can be happy here with me..." 

Bucky caught the other man's hand in his again, squeezing the warm fingers with his own rather than attempting to talk past the lump in his throat. In an abstract sort of way he realised that everything that had happened last night had somehow only strengthened them further, but right at this moment it didn't matter. 

"I _am_ happy," he said finally, giving Steve's hand another squeeze, "And I can't even begin to thank you for everything you've done for me-" 

"You don't have to thank me," his friend interrupted earnestly, "I _wanted_ to do it." 

"I know, but I'm grateful anyway. You saved my life." The words sounded so simple and yet he meant so much more by them than he could ever hope to explain. 

"And you saved mine," Steve replied, twisting his hand in Bucky's so he was holding onto him just as tightly. 

They fell silent after that, staring at each other across the table as they both got swept away by their own thoughts. It wasn't until that moment that Bucky had really given his feelings for Steve any real consideration within the context of all his _other_ feelings for Steve. Wanting him was just another aspect of the complex mass of emotion that his friend evoked in him, but thinking about it here, like this, with their fingers still tangled together and the fresh reminder of how deeply they both felt for each other... For the first time he began to wonder if what he felt for the other man was more than just lust. 

"What do you want to do today?" Steve asked finally, giving his hand one last squeeze, before releasing him to tuck back into his rapidly cooling breakfast. 

Hastily biting back the 'you' on the tip of his tongue, Bucky instead gave the question some real thought. "Maybe we could go for a walk? See what we can find of the Brooklyn we grew up in?" 

"A walk down memory lane?" His friend sounded surprised. 

"Sure, why not?" 

Steve drained the last of his coffee, seemingly taking the time to consider his answer carefully before speaking. "I didn't think you liked reliving the past." 

"I never said-" 

"You didn't have to," Steve interrupted, "But I do pay attention, you know, and you don't like watching old movies, or listening to the music they used to play on the radio, and when Tony sent you the website for that retro dance hall place you deleted it without even looking at it." 

As he spoke, the other man ticked each thing off on his fingers while Bucky's jaw descended closer and closer to the ground. He hadn't even been aware he was doing it, but when Steve put it like that he realised it was true. Intentionally or not, he _had_ been shying away from the things that he'd loved back before his whole life had been turned upside down. 

"I was just surprised, is all," his friend continued when Bucky merely gaped at him, "If that's what you want to do, then I'm more than happy to. It's been years since I last went exploring, bet it's changed all over again." 

"It's what I want to do," he confirmed finally, figuring that perhaps it was time he stopped running from things and started facing up to them instead. Whether they were the things he'd loved long ago or the things he was beginning to realise he loved in the present. 

"Then let's do it!" Steve declared enthusiastically, breaking through Bucky's thoughts and sending a flash of misplaced heat racing through his veins. 

He wasn't sure what expression crossed his face in response to the other man's unintentionally provocative comment, but he was pretty sure it was one his friend did not need to see. He was mightily relieved that Steve had already turned back to his plate as he hurried to hide his face behind his mug. 

\--- 

The neighbourhood had certainly changed a lot, the stores and diners and bars almost completely unrecognisable, but what really surprised him was how many of the buildings had stayed the same. In the end they'd passed a rather pleasant day reminiscing about their youth, Steve pointing out the places they'd used to visit and Bucky picking out all the alleys Steve had got beaten up in. There were an awful lot of those and eventually his friend had run out of patience, dragging him into a rundown diner for a coffee and a slice of pie. It was obviously a relic from a bygone era, yet it was still new to them and it had been an odd sort of juxtaposition that left Bucky feeling more out of time than he had in a long while. 

It was something of a relief to get home and though he didn't say anything, he knew Steve could tell he was out of sorts after their day out. Not ready to talk about it just yet, however, he retreated to the bathroom as soon as they got in, scrubbing away the day's grime and trying to wash his tension down the drain along with the soapy water. It helped to an extent, but he was still a little on edge when he emerged and without giving it any real thought he went in search of Steve as soon as he was done. 

The door to the other man's room was ajar, but he knocked anyway, waiting for acknowledgement before pushing it open and taking a step inside. His friend was in the middle of putting away his laundry, but he looked up when Bucky walked in, a question in his eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to bring up their day out, to explain the whole damn mess in his head, knowing Steve would listen, would _understand_ , but he didn't even know where to start. 

"I'm running low on conditioner," he said instead, even as he mentally berated himself for his cowardice. 

"I'll add it to the grocery order," Steve promised, "Need anything else?" 

"Nah, that's it. Thanks." 

"Any time," his friend assured him and Bucky's mouth went dry. 

Of course he knew Steve hadn't meant anything by it, it was simply his default response to Bucky's thanks. He'd heard it countless times since that morning in the kitchen and yet this time it hit him hard. Perhaps, he thought a little dazedly, watching the other man pick up a handful of socks from the bed and tuck them into a drawer, it was their location that gave the words an added, if unintentional, weight. 

As Bucky watched Steve work, his eyes following his movement across the room, he found his attention increasingly sticking on the neatly made bed. It looked rather different tonight; sheets perfectly smooth, the only imperfection being the steadily decreasing pile of clean clothes on the foot of it. Not like last night when the sheets had been rumpled and half twisted around Steve's legs, the pillows knocked askew as his friend arched into his hand and... And Bucky wanted to see it again so badly. 

_Any time_ , Steve had said, and last night... Last night, he had been jerking off while Bucky was doing the same thing just next door. And yeah he'd just come home from a mission and sure, it was probably nothing more than left over adrenalin and not having had time to himself for a couple of days, but he still did it while he could _hear_ Bucky. Besides he hadn't stopped after Bucky caught him at it, hell he'd even played along. _And he'd said 'any time'._

"Steve?" 

"Hmm?" The other man didn't look up from where he was folding the last couple of t-shirts into his dresser so Bucky waited, letting the silence stretch until finally his friend looked over at him, features crinkling slightly with concern, "You ok?" 

He knew what Steve was asking, but suddenly all his residual disquiet from their day out seemed utterly insignificant in comparison to what he wanted from his friend. _And Steve had said 'any time'._

"Yeah, fine," he waved a dismissive hand through the air, not quite sure how to continue now he'd begun, but determined not to turn back from the path he'd started down, "I'm fine, I don't _need_ anything… but I _want_ it." 

There was the slightest pause after he spoke, as though the other man was replaying the words in his head trying to work out what Bucky was actually saying. 

"What do you want?" Steve questioned finally, his body tense and his voice so low it was barely above a whisper. 

“A helping hand?” Bucky’s lips quirked up with the hint of a smirk even as he wondered what the hell he was playing at. “You once told me ‘any time’…” he added before trailing off when Steve just stared at him. 

“I thought you were ok with that now?” His friend looked so flustered Bucky was almost unsurprised that in his bewilderment he'd apparently forgotten what he'd been listening to every night for the past few months. 

“I am, you _know_ I am, and I told you I don’t need it, I just-” 

"Want it?" Steve interrupted, something Bucky didn't understand tightening his jaw. 

"Yeah." 

"From me?" Steve pressed. 

"Yeah." 

The other man looked like he was about to say something else, before apparently thinking better of it, "Ok." 

“Ok?” Bucky echoed, only now realising that he had never for a moment expected Steve to actually agree. It had been different before, back when he'd really _needed_ his friend's help, but this… 

“I told you; any time,” Steve grinned suddenly and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. 

There was something about that smile that always reminded him of little Stevie from Brooklyn, before he’d learned how fucking cruel the world could really be. Not that he’d exactly had it easy back then, but he’d always had a smile for Bucky; that bright, open expression that felt more like home than anything had in a long time. 

“Well?” Steve pressed when all he did was stand and stare at him from the doorway, “We doing this or what?” and he held out his hand. 

Bucky was across the room in a flash, his hand settling easily into his friend's outstretched palm. 

"You ok in here, or...?" Steve checked, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and making his heart turn over. 

"Here's fine," he confirmed a little roughly, not caring a damn where they did this, just so long as they did it. 

"Good." The other man swallowed visibly, then took a careful step forward, still holding on to Bucky's hand, "Would it be too weird if I kissed you?" 

"No, not at all," he denied quickly. _No, it would be pretty fucking perfect, actually._ "Good," Steve repeated and then he was leaning in, pressing the softest of kisses against Bucky's lips. 

Only that wouldn't do at all and before Steve could move away, Bucky reached for him, his fingers slipping into his friend's hair as he tugged him back in and kissed him hard. There was a muted moan that he supposed must have come from him and then Steve pulled him closer, his arms trapping Bucky against his chest like vices and this time he _knew_ he was the one that had moaned because the feel of the other man against him was like nothing else he'd ever felt. All that hard muscle and banked strength, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the insistent press of his mouth, the demanding sweep of his tongue... It was even better than he could have imagined and he never wanted it to end. 

When they finally did part they were both breathing hard and for a long moment all they did was stare at each other. He couldn't even begin to guess what was going through the other man's head just then, but for his part, he was struggling to think at all. He wanted Steve so badly and his kiss had felt so damn perfect that it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember that his friend was still just doing him a favour. 

"How do you want to do this?" Steve asked eventually, as if Bucky had actually thought this through. 

"I don't know," he frowned, his eyes flicking between Steve's face and the bed to his left. 

"You could get under the covers like last time?" his friend suggested helpfully. 

"Yeah, I guess," he glanced at the bed again, wondering what it was that seemed to be missing from the perfectly reasonable proposal. 

"Or I could strip you bare, spread you out on top of the sheets and take you apart piece by piece," his friend continued matter of factly. 

Steve's voice was so even that it took a second for the words to sink in, but when they did Bucky's eyes went wide. 

"The second one," he breathed before he could give himself a chance to overthink it, "Definitely the second one." 

"Ok then," Steve grinned, his hands immediately slipping down Bucky's back to pull at the hem of the t-shirt he'd thrown on after his shower. 

When he tugged upwards, Bucky dutifully raised his arms, allowing the other man to remove the shirt and toss it aside. It was hardly the first time Steve had seen him shirtless, but it was certainly the first time he'd noticed Steve really _looking_ at him. His friend's eyes raked over his chest, followed by the slow sweep of his hands, starting at his shoulders and dragging over his pecs and down his abs until they finally came to a halt at the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When Steve stopped there, his fingers skimming over the fabric without making any effort to move it aside, Bucky pouted, a low mewl of frustration echoing in his throat. Only perhaps that was what the other man had been waiting for, because the sound had barely left his mouth before there were hands sliding under the waistband, pushing his pants down his thighs to pool on the floor at his feet. 

"Come on," Steve encouraged quietly, helping him to step out of his clothes, but leaving his underwear in place as he guided him back towards the bed, "Lie down for me." 

Obediently, he climbed onto the mattress, lying back when his friend pressed lightly at his shoulder. A second later, the other man was settling on his knees beside him, his fingers toying with the elasticated waist of Bucky's briefs. 

"You can take them off," he prompted, figuring there wasn't much point playing coy at this stage, but Steve just grinned back at him, still teasing at the edge of the material. 

"Mmm, I will," Steve promised, but instead of stripping Bucky of the last piece of clothing, he instead let his fingers drift down over the fabric, cupping him loosely with one hand as the other trailed back up his chest. 

"What're you doing?" he asked a little breathlessly. 

"Taking you apart," the other man's fingers found his right nipple, rolling it lightly between them, "Piece by piece." 

"Fuck..." he muttered and at that Steve grinned. 

"Like that?" his friend asked almost teasingly. 

He gave the nub between his fingertips a gentle pinch and it didn't even occur to Bucky to censor himself when he replied with, "Harder." 

"Like _that_?" Steve repeated, tightening his hold until it was just the right side of painful and dragging a breathless moan from Bucky's throat in the process, "Mmm, just like that, huh?" 

Bucky could only groan as Steve switched his attention to the other nipple, seeming to have forgotten his right hand entirely, which remained unmoving atop Bucky's underwear. In an effort to remind him, he bucked his hips slightly and Steve smirked a little, but he still didn't _move_. Bucky had already opened his mouth to protest when the other man suddenly leaned over him, his lips closing over Bucky's nipple, licking it once before tugging at the sensitive nub with his teeth. 

At the new sensation, so very different from anything he could ever have achieved on his own, he nearly screamed and he heard Steve chuckle against his skin. 

"You _really_ like that, don't you?" 

"Please don't stop," he begged helplessly. 

"Wasn't gonna," his friend promised, shifting to lie beside him on the bed, before returning his mouth to Bucky's chest. 

It went almost quiet after that, the silence broken only by the wet sound of Steve's mouth on him and the low whimpers and moans he was tearing from Bucky's throat with every brush of teeth or tongue. He was so distracted, in fact, that he'd almost forgotten about Steve's hand, unmoving, but still _there_ , resting on his crotch. When the other man suddenly shifted, therefore, fingers tightening to grip him through his briefs, he nearly arched off of the bed, his head falling back with a cry that seemed to reverberate around the room. 

"More?" Steve whispered, giving his nipple one last lick before raising his head to meet Bucky's eyes. 

All he managed in response was an urgent nod, but it seemed to be enough. Without further ado, the other man's hand slipped into his underwear, finally wrapping his fingers around bare skin. He managed all of one stroke before Bucky was shoving at his own clothes, too impatient to wait for Steve to finish what he'd started and it was inevitable, then, that in his efforts to remove the fabric as fast as possible, he would look down. Only he hadn't anticipated quite how strongly he would react to the sight of Steve's hand on him and it was everything he could do to keep from coming on the spot. 

Even without the visual stimulus, he suspected he'd have struggled. It felt just as good as it had the first time; Steve stroking confidently up and down Bucky's length without a hint of hesitancy. Except now Bucky could _see_ it and that alone made it feel _so_ much better. Besides, without the fear that he'd never reach his release hanging over him, there was nothing to stop him from properly enjoying it, not to mention the fact that he was fulfilling at least a dozen fantasties in the process. Only in all the time he'd spent thinking about it, imagining it, wishing for it, he'd never thought about how much harder it would be to keep from screaming his friend's name at the top of his lungs. 

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that when Steve abruptly released him, it took a second for him to understand what had happened. Except as suddenly as he'd stopped the other man was back, his fingers curling around his cock again, only now his palm was slick with lube. Bucky didn't even know where it had come from, hadn't so much as glimpsed the bottle, but he wasn't sure he cared. Not when Steve's hand tightened just a little more, speeding up at the same time and leaving Bucky nearly biting through his lip in an effort to keep his best friend's name from escaping him. 

"Nuh-uh, none of that, Buck," Steve's hand stilled on his cock as he leaned over him, holding him but not _moving_ , while he nosed at his chin until he released his lip from between his teeth, "Come on, lemme hear you." 

"You haven't heard me enough?" he gasped as the hand on his cock began to stroke him again. 

"No such thing," Steve told him throatily, pulling another helpless mewl from him as he ducked his head, nibbling on the edge of his jaw. 

When Steve began to move again in earnest, Bucky groaned loudly and as if in reward, the other man gave his hand a twist on the next upstroke, pulling an even louder sound from him. 

It turned into something of an upward spiral after that, Bucky's cries increasing in frequency and volume until he was sure he must be on the verge of deafening his poor friend. Only the worse he got, the more Steve seemed to encourage him, repeating the things that drew the loudest sounds until Bucky was worried he might vibrate apart at the seams. 

"Fuck, I'm so close," he gasped finally, the words choking off on a shout of pleasure when the other man gave his nipple a sharp bite. 

"I know, I can hear it," his friend grinned wickedly and at any other time Bucky might have been tempted to wipe the smug look off his face. "You gonna come for me, Buck?" 

He opened his mouth to reply just as Steve tightened his grip and whatever he'd meant to say came out as a desperate keen of pleasure. 

"Come on, Bucky, _come for me_." 

"Yes!" he promised mindlessly, his body teetering on the very edge, "Fuck, yes, please, Ste-" he cut himself off with a cry, wondering if the other man had heard his slip. 

"No, say it," Steve shifted suddenly, leaning forward so that his face was hovering just above Bucky's. "Say my name," he demanded, looking him right in the eye as he spoke, and there was nothing Bucky could do but obey. 

" _Steve_!" he all but screamed as his orgasm finally hit, wrenching another choked cry from his throat as he spilled all over himself. 

"That's it," the other man murmured as he stroked him through it, "So good for me, Buck." 

" _Steve_..." he said again, though this time it sounded more like a sigh than a word as the last traces of tension melted out of him, leaving him gazing languidly up at his softly smiling friend. 

"Ok?" Steve checked. 

"Mhmm," Bucky hummed back. 

"Good," Steve returned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against his temple, before starting to pull back. 

"No, don't go," he whined, catching at the front of his friend's shirt without stopping to think, shoving him onto his back and rolling half on top of him to keep him in place, thoroughly uncaring of the mess he was making of the other man's clothes. 

"Not going anywhere," Steve promised, but his eyes were wide, his body oddly still beneath the leg Bucky had thrown over his thighs to keep him pinned. 

"Kiss me again?" he requested rather than trying to interpret his friend's expression, the residual high of his orgasm making him brave. 

"Ok," Steve agreed quickly, his jaw working as if he wanted to say something more, but when he stayed quiet Bucky ran out of patience, bringing their lips together without waiting for the other man to move. 

It started slow, just the barest pressure, but it built quickly and soon he was pushing his tongue urgently into Steve's mouth. There was another soft little moan at that, only this time he _knew_ it hadn't come from him and the shock of it nearly had him pulling back. Except then Steve wrapped his arms around him, hauling him closer and kissing him harder, and his surprise at Steve making an audible sound was very quickly eclipsed by the startling discovery that his friend was _hard_. 

"Oh _Stevie_..." he breathed against his lips, pushing his thigh against the other man's crotch. 

"Buck, I..." Steve started only to trail off with a gasp when Bucky shifted again, pulling his leg away in favour of cupping the other man's erection through his pants. "You don't have to…" he tried even as he arched up into Bucky's palm. 

"I _want_ to," he interrupted, giving him a stroke before reaching for his belt, "Can I?" 

"Yeah," his friend agreed, looking almost frightened even as he eagerly helped Bucky strip him of every stitch he had on. 

As soon as Steve's clothes were out of the way, Bucky's fingers returned to his cock, only this time there was nothing but the warmth of bare skin beneath his palm. At the feel of it he nearly groaned out loud, but Steve himself remained as quiet as he'd expected. As he began to stroke, he noted the hitches in his friend's breathing, the soft huffs that were just this side of audible, but otherwise he was all but silent. Not that it wasn't still something of a thrill to hear what little sounds he _did_ make, but at the same time, Bucky couldn't help wondering yet again what it would take to make Steve _scream_. 

"Ok?" he checked after a moment, just to hear the other man speak. 

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, his voice coming out rough and deep and hot as fuck. 

The sound of it went straight to Bucky's cock and he'd pressed closer before he could think better of it. Not that the other man seemed remotely perturbed by the hard length prodding him insistently in the thigh. In fact, he didn't even hesitate before reaching for Bucky again, wrapping his hand around his erection and giving him a firm stroke. 

"Fuck," he groaned, thrusting into Steve's fist, even as his own hand continued to work his friend's cock. 

"C'mere," Steve murmured, tugging gently at his thigh until he caught on, swinging one leg over the other man's body to hover over him, knees either side of his hips and his left hand planted on the sheets by his head. 

As Bucky moved into position, a familiar looking bottle rolled against his calf and with the shortest pause he could manage, he hastily poured some into his palm before returning his now slick hand to Steve's erection. It earned him a delicious little shiver and a heated smile, but before he could really savour the moment, Steve's fist twisted around him, pulling him right back into it and all but wrenching a low keen of pleasure from his throat. 

They settled into a rhythm pretty quickly after that, their hands stroking each other in unison, knuckles occasionally bumping together. It was almost more than Bucky had dared to imagine, touching his friend like this, being touched at the same time, and the way their eyes stayed locked together only made it more intense as they drew each other closer to the edge. 

Steve looked incredible like this, flushed and panting and so damn beautiful. His skin was sheened with sweat, his chest heaving with the force of his breathing and everything about this was so much better than the glimpse he'd caught when he'd walked in on him. Steve looked utterly wrecked and it was _Bucky_ that had done that to him, _Bucky_ that was making him feel so good and it was Bucky that he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of. Because whilst Steve's right hand steadily jerked him off, his left was also in constant motion. It drifted up his spine to tangle in his hair, before sliding back down again a moment later, brushing over the scars on his chest and tugging sharply at his nipples, only to snake back around to settle on his ass, squeezing roughly. 

With each new touch, Steve dragged another sound from Bucky's throat and it wasn't long before his wordless cries were filling the room, the first still echoing off the walls while the second was leaving his lips. When the other man's hand settled on his ass, then, his fingertips dipping just slightly between his cheeks like a promise of so much more, Bucky didn't even try to hold back the one intelligible word that hung on the tip of his tongue. 

" _Steve_..." 

There was a sharp intake of breath in response and then his friend's head fell back, lips parting on a soundless cry, as if the call of his name had been the trigger that sent him tumbling over the edge. 

It was without doubt the hottest thing Bucky had ever seen in his life and it was only sheer bloody-mindedness that kept him from coming until Steve was finished, refusing to let his own release keep him from appreciating every damn second of the way the other man looked as he came. When Steve's trembling finally ceased, however, his eyes opening again to fix on Bucky's face, it was the final straw and with a garbled cry that could only just be identified as his friend's name, Bucky followed him over the precipice. 

It took a while for him to be able to coordinate his limbs again, but once the trembling had at least mostly stopped, he managed to force himself off of Steve, rolling onto his back on the bed beside him instead. 

"Do you need another one?" Steve asked, propping himself up on one arm and looking down at Bucky with a fond smile 

Of course, he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't tempted to say yes. He sure as hell wouldn't mind another one, but he didn't _need_ it and his friend had already given him so much more than he deserved. 

"I'm ok," he replied, only a little reluctantly, "Do you? You only got one..." 

"It was a good one though," Steve's tone was full of satisfaction and there was something about it that filled Bucky with warmth. 

"Doesn't mean you don't need another," he prompted; as close as he was willing to get to outright asking the other man to let him have another go. 

"Well I won't say no if you're offering..." his friend shifted a little closer, nudging his still mostly-hard cock against Bucky's thigh. 

Impulsively, he curled his fingers around Steve's hip, urging him up in much the same way Steve had guided him into position before. 

"Sit on my stomach," he directed when the other man moved over him only to remain hovering above him in an almost exact mirror of their previous position. 

Obediently his friend settled atop his abdomen and Bucky quickly realised that this was one of the best ideas he'd ever had. Steve looked gorgeous like this, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed, his eyes heavy lidded as he gazed down at him. As if that wasn't enough, the other man's torso was already a mess of cum, a perfect blend of both Bucky's and Steve's own, and impulsively he reached out, trailing his fingers through it, relishing the slick slide of his digits over all those glorious muscles. 

If Steve _looked_ amazing like this, however, he felt even better. The firm press of those delectable ass cheeks against Bucky's stomach was nothing short of heaven, not to mention the gentle squeeze of Steve's thighs against his sides and the soft weight of his balls resting lightly on Bucky's skin. Besides, with the other man positioned that way it wasn't too hard to imagine what could happen if his friend was sitting just a few inches lower... But he couldn't think about that now. Instead he focused on making Steve feel good, reaching for the other man's cock and wrapping his hastily reslicked fingers around the rapidly stiffening length. 

At the first touch of his hand, Steve arched into it, his head falling back as Bucky began to stroke. He continued that way for a while, his attention flitting back and forth from the blissed out expression on his friend's face, to the play of muscles on his chest, to the way his own hand looked wrapped around Steve's cock. After a while though, he realised that the other man's attention had shifted slightly, his eyes stealing little glances at Bucky's left hand lying motionless on the bed by his side. It hadn't been a conscious decision to keep it out of things, but now he wondered if Steve thought it had been. 

Curiously he turned his hand over, offering up his palm and almost immediately his friend was reaching for him, lacing their fingers together. Steve's expression had turned cautious, even as he continued to arch into his fist, so Bucky offered him a tentative smile as he gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze. It seemed to do the trick and the next thing he knew, the other man was tugging his hand up and pressing a kiss against the back of it, before depositing it on his own thigh, high enough that it brushed against his hip with every roll of his body. It seemed an obvious enough hint, but Bucky couldn't be sure, so he kept it slow, sliding his hand just a little further, until the tip of one cool finger teased very, very gently against Steve's balls. At even that tiny contact, his friend nearly arched off of him, his head falling back on a soundless cry of pleasure and Bucky figured maybe he didn't need to be quite _that_ cautious after all. 

"Want it?" he asked aloud, more to hear the other man say it than because of any real need for affirmation. 

"Yeah," Steve confirmed breathlessly, "Do you mind?" 

"Do I _mind_?" he echoed incredulously, "No, Stevie, I don't _mind_. I'll do whatever you want me to." 

"Really?" His friend's eyebrows shot up at that and part of Bucky was kicking himself for how much his offer had revealed, but he wasn't about to back down now. 

"Try me," he smirked, figuring he may as well commit to it. 

Steve hesitated, the pregnant pause lasting just long enough for Bucky's brain to offer up at least a dozen different things that the other man could ask for, things Bucky would happily _beg_ for permission to do to him, but when he finally spoke, all he asked was, "Will you use your left hand on me?" 

"Kinky," he teased, even as he immediately moved to do as Steve asked. 

Pouring out a little more lube, he considered rubbing his palms together to warm it up a little, but ultimately decided he didn't want to stop touching Steve long enough to do it and besides, he didn't want to take anything away from the full effect of the metal hand. Instead, he reached straight for the other man's cock, only pulling his right hand back when he was already curling his fingers carefully around Steve's erection. At the first touch of metal on skin, his friend immediately shuddered at the chill, though he didn't so much as flinch away from it, driving himself forward instead as he continued to thrust into Bucky's fist. 

"Like it?" he asked after a minute or so and Steve nodded, looking a little dazed. 

"S'good. Different. Never felt anything like it before." 

"Better than the other one?" he pressed, despite his better judgement. 

"No," Steve assured him without hesitation, "Not as good as feeling your skin on mine." 

"Want me to switch back?" he queried, trying not to show how thrilled he was by his friend's words. 

"Yeah, maybe? But keep touching me with both," Steve demanded, before biting his lip, his expression turning uncharacteristically shy, "I mean, if that's alright with you." 

"Trust me, Stevie, it's definitely alright," he promised, certainly not about to object to getting both hands on the other man at once. 

He gave his friend one more stroke with his metal fist, before replacing it with his right hand, relishing the feel of skin on skin almost as much as Steve seemed to. His left palm he returned to rest on the other man's thigh, rubbing gentle circles into the taut muscle with his fingertips until the urge to explore again drove him onwards. With a last squeeze, he started to slide the warmed metal up over Steve's chest, only once he'd begun moving, he couldn't seem to stop. As he continued to jerk him steadily with his right hand, his left drifted unceasingly over his friend's upper body, exploring every part of him that he could reach. 

When his fingers slid down to the base of the other man's back, just dipping into the cleft of his ass, Steve pressed into the touch immediately, shifting back far enough that the tip of Bucky's cock, hard and leaking once again, nudged between his cheeks. It was almost too much, too close to one of those strictly forbidden fantasies, but rather than shy away from it, Steve merely gave him a molten look before rocking up onto his knees and shuffling himself just a little further backwards. When he resettled himself, he was hovering over Bucky slightly, the position leaving his erection perfectly nestled in the hot space between Steve's cheeks, the tip nudging gently against the back of his balls. 

The feel of the other man's body pressed so intimately against his own was more than enough to have him moaning again and when Steve suddenly ground down on his cock he nearly screamed with the force of his pleasure. In barely any time at all he was on the edge of coming, holding himself back by sheer force of will. 

"You close, baby? Tell me you're close," he pleaded almost mindlessly, Steve's answer doing nothing to help his tenuous hold over himself. 

"Yeah," he gasped out, "Fuck, _Bucky_ , you feel so good." 

"Then come for me," he demanded, "Come on, Stevie..." 

With one final roll of his hips, Steve did just that, spilling all over both of them and dragging Bucky over the precipice with him, his friend's name tumbling from his lips like a prayer. 

In the immediate aftermath, the other man practically collapsed on his chest, but it wasn't long before he was clambering off of him, sprawling out on the bed next to him instead. A few unsteady breaths later had Steve reaching for his discarded shirt, using it to clean the worst of the mess off of Bucky's chest and gently wiping over his cock, then doing the same to himself before tossing the shirt carelessly onto the floor. It was sort of sweet, being cared for like that, but Bucky still wasn't quite sure what to expect afterwards, whether Steve would want him to go back to his own room or if he'd take pity and allow him and his still shaky limbs to spend the night. What he certainly _wasn't_ expecting, however, was the way his friend reached for him once he'd settled beside him again, his fingers ghosting over Bucky's jaw in the gentlest of caresses. 

"Could I kiss you again?" Steve asked quietly, surprising him even further, "Just once?" 

He was so startled, in fact, that he couldn't even begin to find the words to say _'yes, of course you fucking can. As many times as you damn well please'_ , so he did the only thing he could, catching the other man around the back of the neck and tugging him down. 

Their lips met almost tenderly and at the first contact, Steve seemed to melt into it, settling against his side as they shared slow, lazy kisses for what could have been seconds or hours or anything in between. When his friend finally moved to draw back, however, Bucky wasn't remotely ready to let go and without thinking he tightened his grip, holding the other man against him. By the time he realised what he'd done, it was too late to stop himself, so instead he braced himself to pretend he was just messing around, except Steve didn't make so much as a peep in protest. Relaxing back into the embrace immediately, his friend shifted only as much as it took to settle himself a little more comfortably, his head pillowed on Bucky's right shoulder, as he tugged the sheets up over them. 

He hardly even dared to breathe after that, worried that the barest hint of movement could be enough to scare Steve off. Instead he let his eyes fall closed, relishing the warmth of the other man's body against his and determined to make the most of what he could only interpret as an unspoken invitation to stay the night.


End file.
